


Charlie Loves

by WhatWldMrsWeasleyDo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-07
Updated: 2014-11-07
Packaged: 2018-02-24 11:38:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2580107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatWldMrsWeasleyDo/pseuds/WhatWldMrsWeasleyDo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlie Weasley has two loves: his boyfriend and his brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Charlie Loves

**Author's Note:**

  * For [luvscharlie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/luvscharlie/gifts).



> _**Warnings** Incest, infidelity, un-beta-ed, frottage, oral sex, alcohol abuse.  
>  **AN** For luvscharlie because she is so awesome.  
>  **These characters and settings are the property of JK Rowling**_

"She's visiting her mother."

"Bill, I'm working."

"I've got Shell Cottage to myself for two whole days. Charlie! Come on!"

"I don't know."

"We can get drunk and have a laugh. I need a break, Charlie. I've had enough."

"Enough of what?"

"Family life. Look ..." Bill's head ducked out of the fireplace and Charlie heard his brother swallowing something. Then he was back. "After all the fighting and stress of the Order I just wanted some stability. Now, though ..." He pulled a face. "I'm married to a _hausfrau_ , my home is lousy with nappies and mushed banana and I work in a bank. I'm so _bored_ , Charlie. Help me let off some steam?"

"I'll think about it."

And, of course, think about it he did. He thought about it in the shower as soap bubbles slipped down between the curled, ginger hairs on his chest. He thought about Bill's long, muscular back, his perfectly shaped limbs; he thought about the experimental games they'd played as adolescents which Bill had always halted before they went too far. As he washed his ink-decorated belly his hand slid lower. He started to picture his big brother's scarred and freckled face shifting as his mouth opened wide and Charlie's cock – No! He mustn't think like that, not about his own brother.

As he was towel-drying his short hair, his thoughts wandered back into forbidden territory. So engrossed was he that when his bare arse was slapped, he honestly thought it might have been Bill who had done it.

"Don't look so surprised," Viktor said. "Who were you expecting to touch you when you are naked?"

"I thought you'd gone," Charlie answered.

"I have come back. I forgot my socks. When I Apparate in, you were just too tempting!"

Charlie grinned at his boyfriend and moved closer to him. "How long have you got?" He wanted to be distracted from his sick fantasies.

"No time, sorry!" Viktor shrugged his broad shoulders. "I am late for the training already. I see you tonight?"

"I'm on a late shift. Don't get back in 'til four. You're welcome ..."

Viktor shook his head. "I need to be sleeping by then. Shall I get you a ticket for the Slovak Sharks game?"

"This weekend?"

"You forgot?"

"It's just come round quick. I can't really. I'd love to, but I'm on call." Charlie didn't know exactly why he was lying, he just knew that his boyfriend was going to be away at the same time as Bill's wife. 

He should stop torturing himself, it wasn't like anything was going to happen.

_________________________

The kitchen at Shell Cottage looked spotless to Charlie, but Bill still apologised for the mess. 

"You have seen my place?" Charlie grinned.

"Not for ages, mate." 

Charlie tried to ignore the wet, red pout of his brother's lips. He walked over to look out of the little window over the sink instead. Outside the rain lashed down out of a dark grey sky and waves crashed up the cliffs.

"We should hang out together more," Bill said behind him. "Remember when we were teenagers?"

Charlie remembered all too well. At that moment what he was remembering was the wet head of Bill's cock when he was winning one of their wanking competitions. The sight of Bill kneeling opposite him had always tipped Charlie over into orgasm first. He just nodded and stayed staring out into the storm.

"Drink?" Bill asked. "Butterbeer or something stronger?"

A distorted image of Bill moved into the reflection of the kitchen in the window. 

Charlie suddenly laughed. "You remember that time we nicked Aunt Muriel's mead and ended up puking all over those gnomes?" He turned round.

"Merlin! Yeah! We'd been sent to sort out her garden. We got in so much trouble!"

"Mum was furious about being shown up."

Bill shook his head. "You were always getting me into trouble."

"Was I?" Charlie looked startled. Then he thought for a moment. "That was my idea?"

"Don't you remember?"

"Probably was. You were such a good little boy – top marks at school, always making the parents so proud."

"You could talk me into anything, though."

"I liked to see my perfect big brother get messied up sometimes." Charlie tried not to think about how dirty he really wanted to make Bill.

Bill laughed. "So you got me a dragon's tooth ear-ring and then held me down with an ice cube and needle at my lobe ..."

"I think there was mead involved that time, too." That night, he'd penetrated his big brother with a metal point rather than with his prick, but that had been further and closer than he'd ever been allowed before.

"I've got some mead somewhere," Bill muttered.

Charlie followed him out of the kitchen and into a little larder. Bill peered along the top shelf, but Charlie wasn't tall enough to see what he was looking at. 

There was very little room in there and Charlie found himself heating up, struggling with his desire to touch the flesh at the back of Bill's neck, exposed where the leather band pulled his hair together into a pony tail.

"I'll dig out a couple of glasses," he said, stepping back.

__________________________

The mead was deceptively sweet and once again it seduced them into drinking more and quicker than was wise. At least the burn of Firewhiskey slowed them down. They reminisced and gossiped as they sat at the scrubbed kitchen table. Charlie leaned his elbow on the tray of the highchair.

Outside, the wind whistled and the rain drummed a steady pattern. The bottle emptied itself into their glasses. Their hands found each other's skin with increasing frequency. Charlie couldn't stop himself from hoping that he wasn't the only who felt these urges. He forgot about Viktor.

Bill pushed himself unsteadily to his feet. "More drink," he said.

"Soon," Charlie replied. "Let's go for a walk, first."

Bill's first reaction was disbelief. "In this?" he asked. Charlie shrugged and nodded. "You're mad," Bill said first. Then he looked right into Charlie's eyes – stopping the younger man's breath. "Why not?"

Within seconds of leaving the cottage they were soaked and after that it didn't matter. The wind thrust salt air against their faces. They walked dangerously close to the cliff to watch the white spray shining in the moonlight as it hurled itself towards them.

Bill told stories into the howling night and the storm whipped half his words away before they reached Charlie. They visited Dobby's grave and he described again how Harry had dug it without magic. He showed off the climbing frame he had built Victoire for her birthday. They strolled into a group of fruit trees Fleur had planted, but which weren't doing very well. He blamed the sea air.

Then he stopped, mid-sentence and grabbed Charlie's wrist.

"You got a new tatt," he said. He pushed back the sleeve of Charlie's robe. "A snitch? You haven't played Quidditch since school."

"We got matching ones. We thought snitches, 'cos we'd both played Seeker. Well, he still does of course --"

"Who does?"

"Viktor. You know, Viktor Krum?"

"Yeah. The Bulgarian?" Bill's chest was heaving, his eyes narrowing. It looked very like jealousy. Charlie's heart leapt at the possibility that his perverse feelings were mutual. Then he damped that down because he could not want that. "What are you doing getting matching ink with him?" He didn't let go of Charlie's wrist.

Thick raindrops gathered on the leaves above them and splashed down onto the place where their flesh met. "We're kind of together," Charlie offered – trying to sound nonchalant, not sure why he was so nervous.

Bill looked right into his eyes again. He seemed to be struggling with something. Suddenly, he dropped Charlie's arm and said: "More alcohol."

Charlie had trouble keeping up with him through the dark, wet garden. When they stood dripping in the kitchen they realised just how wet they had got. Charlie got out his wand, shaking the rain droplets off it, intending to dry them with a spell.

"Don't bother," Bill muttered and started to strip. He peeled off the sodden wool of his cloak and draped it over the clothes horse in front of the range. Then his robe, his trousers, his socks and – turning round and bending down like it didn't matter – his underwear.

Charlie realised that he was standing still and staring and that was not ok. So, he looked down and concentrated on disrobing himself. He couldn't imagine what Bill intended to have happen next; he could not afford to start imagining what he would like to happen. Luckily all of his flesh was chilled and wrinkled up otherwise a rush of hot blood would have embarrassed him.

Bill took his clothes from him to hang up. They were naked and their hands touched. Charlie fought to keep his eyes on his brother's face. 

He had to impose some distance between them, so he asked, "Is the Firewhiskey in the larder?"

"There's rum and sloe gin, too. Bring them all out."

Charlie didn't notice the cold stone flags against his feet, only the dizzying urges in his mind. He stood in the larder for a moment, seeing nothing, trying to steady himself. He had one hand on the shelf in front of him, with no idea of what was on it.

He knew Bill was there before he heard him or felt him. There was a heat, a scent maybe.

"Look, it's up here, out of the way of the kids." Bill stepped closer. His chest moved against Charlie's back as he reached up round him. He took hold of a bottle, moved forwards for a better grip and his flaccid cock bumped against one of Charlie's buttocks. "You're cold, I'll do you a Warming Charm --" he started to say.

He was cut short by Charlie's mouth over his own.

Charlie didn't know what he was doing; he only knew that he had reached the limit of his resistance. There was a rushing sound in his ears and blood heating all of his skin. His neck was twisted round as far as it would go and his head tipped back so he could reach. One hand was on Bill's pony tail, holding him still so that his mouth stayed in place. The other was on his hip, keeping their bodies pressed together. 

So engrossed was he with his own passion and his thrusting tongue, that it took him a moment to realise that Bill was kissing him back. He moaned at the warmth of Bill's arms wrapping around his chest, then gasped as the cold forgotten bottle met his belly. So, he thought, it wasn't just him! Bill _did_ want this, too. 

Just how much Bill wanted it became clear through the pressure of his filling, rising cock against Charlie's buttock. Bill grasped Charlie's shoulder and turned him, pushing him back against the shelves. A jar clattered over. Bill lined up their groins, bending his knees slightly to do so. He raised the bottle so that he could get the cork between his teeth. Once it had been pulled clear, he drank. Then he leant his head down to fill Charlie's mouth from his with the burning rum.

Charlie moaned and drank. At the same moment, they both jerked their hips and their needy cocks rubbed together. Charlie grabbed hold of Bill's arse – a cheek in each hand. He hadn't touched his brother like that since Bill had left home; they had never kissed before. He pulled them closer together. 

Bill licked down his chin as they thrust rhythmically against each other. Charlie's throat was raw from groaning; his lower back and shoulder blades were bruised from knocking against wooden shelves. Fire licked over his skin, increasing, building from deep within him.

Bill sucked down Charlie's throat, then licked at the swirling image of a Welsh Green which ran over his clavicle. Bill drank deeply and again shared with Charlie. Bill's stubble scraped against Charlie's lips as they devoured each other hungrily. Charlie tried to run his hands down Bill's back – the one he had been dreaming about stroking for decades. They were beyond his control, though, and fluttered spasmodically about Bill's spine.

He tried to warn Bill that he was about to come, but their mouths were locked together and anyway, he had forgotten language. His climax overtook his body in red waves.

He became aware that he was digging his nails into Bill's upper arm and that Bill's breath panted fast, hot, wet onto his neck. Bill thrust against Charlie's slowly softening, sticky cock, making Charlie jolt.

As his own lust lightened, his mind cleared enough for him to become aware of Bill's intensity. The rum bottle lay forgotten on the floor, leaking out its contents to streak over the stone. Bill's prick pressed hard into Charlie. 

Suddenly he knew very clearly that this was the only chance he was ever going to get with Bill. He knew that Bill had wanted to keep drinking so that he could blame the alcohol. Bill belonged to his wife and family, this cottage was where his heart lived. He would never be Charlie's man, so Bill would make sure that they never found themselves like this again.

Charlie sank down Bill's madly jerking body – kissing every inch he could for the only time that he would be allowed to do so. His hands ran over tanned, scarred, wrinkling skin. He wanted to touch and taste everything.

Finally, he reached Bill's cock. He grasped the base of its shaft and aimed the next thrust into his open mouth. Above him, Bill yelled out something inarticulate and animal. Charlie closed his eyes to suck down, swirling his tongue, bobbing his head – too absorbed to be careful or to use much of the skill he had acquired over the years.

This was the cock he had always wanted, the one all the others had been substituting for, the one he knew he would never feel again. He took it as deep as he could, not caring about breathing, ignoring the smash of his skull against the shelf behind him every time he drew his head back.

"Oh, yes!" Bill cried out. Charlie longed to hear his name called, but that didn't happen.

His mouth filled suddenly and he choked, trying desperately to suck back the ejaculate lost at that moment, wanting to swallow everything.

Bill pulled back suddenly and slid to the floor. He lay, catching his breath and staring up at the ceiling with his long legs bent. Charlie ran his eyes all over his brother's body, trying to remember every curve and dip of it. There was silence. Bill didn't look at him.

"Should I go?" Charlie asked eventually.

"I think so."

And so - while what he really wanted was to take his brother to a bed where they could lie holding each other all night - Charlie stood, stepped over Bill and walked back into the family kitchen to collect his clothes and Floo away.


End file.
